


From then to Now

by Darke_Eco_Freak



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Literal Soulmates, M/M, Mentioned Major Character Death, The Elder Gods are manipulative, Throne Sex, and Liu Kang is fed up of the shit, so is Raiden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3909724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darke_Eco_Freak/pseuds/Darke_Eco_Freak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe in the beginning they were meant to be brothers in arms, in blood. Warriors crafted to carry out the will of the Gods themselves but somewhere along the way the Gods forgot. Human nature is a fickle, unknowable thing, the strength of their love an unaccountable variable. They were meant to be warriors, the champions, but they were also human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From then to Now

People like to think they were both raised by the academy, Liu Kang and Kung Lao, that they were always the sniping, snarking duo that represented the virtue and skill of the White Lotus Society. People are too presumptuous in his humble opinion. They didn't start at the academy that took them in, they don't even believe in the teachings of the White Lotus. Not that either institution cares so long as they act on their behalves.

People like to think Lord Raiden found them, trained and moulded them into the deadly warriors they are today. Any who believe that deserve the misfortune that follows all disciples of the thunder God. Liu Kang won't go so far as to say they're disillusioned of the deity but he's been hanging around them, pushing and prodding them, long enough that they know how to evade the subtle coercions.

And they've both been around for a very long time. Not gods per say and certainly not immortals but they've both had ridiculously long lives all the same. He can't exactly remember a start, a beginning to his existence, just a near endless line of battles, victories, losses, draws. They can die, of course they can die, but they never...go anywhere, their souls, their spirits, theirselves, remain static. They die and aren't exactly reborn, they don't have childhoods, or if they do, it's simply not important enough for either one to remember.

Sometimes they die in the heat of battle, falling in a blaze of glory, sometimes they're captured and left to waste away for years in some pitiful little shithole, sometimes they make it to old age and pass away quietly. They die and then they start over, same bodies, same person essentially, and they do it all over again.

Sometimes they return nearly immediately, not even given the chance to trek back to whatever battle they'd left. Sometimes the Gods are so desperate for them to win that they ram them back into their broken, bleeding bodies and command them to fight, death is a luxury and there's still work to be done. Other times decades, centuries pass and when they return again they can barely understand the world around them.

The only constant they have is each other and that's truly the only constant they need.

xxxxxxxxx

"Kung Lao."

"Liu Kang."

He can tell from the disbelieving, almost fearful expressions that their last appearance made quite a mark on this little piece of history. They've never changed their names, never had any need as most of their achievements fall into myth by their next appearance, but it seems times are changing yet again.

The monks give them sidelong looks while whispering amongst each other although none turn them away. They both came to the academy at the silent urging of the thunder God, not a request easily ignored though they might try, and the academy seemed to have expected something important of this day.

"We are both descended from the Great Kung Lao of legend," he supplies, hoping these monks are as gullible as they seem and do not choose to investigate the records. Records which would clearly show how the mortal kombat champion had preferred the companionship of his 'brother' over all others, how that great man had died before settling down and having any offspring. Of course they could be descended through that 'beloved brother' but he went missing soon after the death of their champion, so it's best the monks keep their curiosity checked.

"Of-of course. Come, we shall begin your training immediately," the eldest monk explained, and already Kung Lao can see the cogs turning in the man's mind. He plans to use them, craft them into the saviour this realm so desperately needs, and prays he can do it in the scant decade they have. He and Liu will toss a coin later to decide who will play Champion this time, although by all rights it is his "brother's" turn, they like having the illusion of fairness.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

"How could you choose him over me?" Kung Lao raged, breaking things as he went, pots, tables, tearing hangings from the wall. The other monks, young and old, try to calm him with platitudes, begging him to see sense in the elders' decision.

'If this is how you react, how can you be the champion?'

'It was such a close thing Kung Lao, a difficult choice to be sure.'

'Where is Liu Kang?'

"Are we not equal? Did you not train us both in the same breath?" he howled, banging his fist on the fast shut doors of the inner temple. Some of the monks draw away, gasps of horror catching in their throats as he tries to break down the doors of the White Lotus. To them, he is committing the greatest sacrilege, destroying the temple of the Gods in a fit of anger when he should be begging for their blessing on behalf of Liu Kang.

"Spineless old fools who send everyone else to their deaths!" he spat, snatching off his bladed hat to slice and chop at the door, putting on the show that everyone expected of him. If he truly wanted to destroy those they called 'master' it would be so much simpler to wait til the cover of dark and teleport into the closed off mausoleum of a temple. Killing them would be easy, and competing in the tournament easier still, there were no rules on single combatants after all.

"May you all rot in the tomb you call temple!" he roared before replacing his hat and slipping away, dissolving into cool blue magic and into the hidden places of the forest surrounding their 'home'.

xxxxxxxxxx

He and Kung Lao had decided many, many years ago on who would become the next champion, himself, and how they could both enter the tournaments to follow that would best suit the wishes of the Gods. They had planned the personalities they would portray, cocky, arrogant, respectful, naive, they'd stitched together bits and pieces of previous lives for this hastily built existence.

They pretended to know nothing about anything beyond their own realm, and even then they barely knew anything beyond China. They didn't care about the US, they pretended Europe didn't exist, even Japan didn't have anything worth mentioning. They weren't supposed to know about Special Forces, there were no such things as demons, the Shirai Ryu and Lin Kuei weren't things that existed or posed significant threat.

Liu Kang and Kung Lao were rivals and no one remembered that they'd shown up at the academy together. No one ever remarked on their age, that how in the last thirteen years they'd grown more alike and yet so dissimilar. They were the best actors, perfect at their roles but never losing themselves to the lies. Their curse and their gift.

"They truly believe I hate you and despise them," Kung Lao scoffed appearing in a haze of blue dust.

"Then they're more ignorant than we suspected," he commented, coaxing the other into a calm kiss. They were never rushed, no matter how dire the circumstances, because they both knew how much time they would always have left.

They lost themselves in each other, hands grasping at jutting hipbones, nimble fingers undoing ties and straps to push and pull away constricting clothing. Kung Lao always ran a few degrees too cool to be natural while Liu Kang always flared hotter than any human should, they were a good contrast. Made it so easy to forget everything beyond this, beyond this clearing and the downright filthy kisses they shared.

Lazy, sloppy kisses are more their speed. Sucking on his partner's tongue, probing at a mouth as familiar as his own, biting and tugging on lips that promised to be bright red by the time they finished. Of course they had to be careful, no marks, no love bites left on prominent collarbones, no finger shaped bruises in less than appropriate places. They know better than to let as little a thing as pleasure overwhelm them and spoil the game.

They're used to hiding, masters of the art at this point. Hide yourselves, hide each other, hide your love and lust and sorrow and rage from everyone else, you'll always have time later anyway. They know how to lie and pretend that they're nothing more than brothers, rivals, strangers, enemies. They're smarter than that, much more clever and tricky than anyone would ever account for.

"As if that were possible," Lao breathes, lips skimming along his jaw, aching to bite and mark and claim, just to prove how utterly wrong the academy is. Liu Kang can feel the ugly sneer against his skin, the way his partner's lips stretch thin, but they're both better than that so all he gets is a soft kiss. They're far enough away that their moans and bitten short shouts of pleasure don't carry back to the academy but they're still cautious.

Liu ducks down, crouched and balanced perfectly on his toes before the one he knows better than himself. Gazing up at Lao from the forest floor, having the other at his mercy despite the misleading posture is always a heady thing, always very nearly has him cumming in his pants. A long fingered hand cards through his hair, gently cupping the back of his head and pushing him closer, exactly the way he likes.

There are no more words after that, nothing beyond choked off exclamations of 'Liu!' and 'Fuck!' as he undoes the loose ties of a monk's pants. He takes the half hard cock he is presented, slipping his hand up and down, thumbing the head until there's more than enough pre-cum to make this doable. He doesn't waste time after that, just leans forward and takes Kung Lao's cock all the way, enjoying the spluttering gasp as it hits that back of his throat.

The sun has already begun to set on them and the trees are a mess of shadows and fading fire, perfect in case anyone stumbles upon them, but more perfect for the sultry air it lends. They must appear as nothing more than slender dream things, nothing more than spirits ready to disappear into the falling darkness.

Lao is biting at a wrist, bracer dropped at their feet, his other hand tangled in slick black hair, doing nothing more than holding on as Liu Kang works. Of the two, Liu has always preferred sucking cock, enjoyed the ache in his jaw and bitter salt of semen, coating his tongue, his throat.

So he can be forgiven the utterly wrecked noise he makes when Lao comes, fingers tight in his hair, wrist bleeding as Liu continues sucking through the orgasm, milking him for everything he's worth.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

They can always tell when their time's nearly up, a sudden, intense headache, a sense of nausea that refuses to leave, common sense. They've existed long enough to know when a situation is hopeless, when they should just give up and enjoy the last bit of time they have but end up wasting on another desperate endeavour. Sometimes Kung Lao thinks that all they exist to do, pander to the Gods and fight the fights that others cannot, the Gods cannot.

Maybe that makes him sound jaded but it is the truth. The Elder Gods cannot intervene in mortal affairs, lest they face the retribution of their fellows, but there's always some loophole to be exploited. Some chip in the glass, crack in the stone waiting to be broken wide open and the two of them, Liu Kang and Kung Lao, are the tools they crafted out of flesh and blood to take advantage of every last chance they have.

Going into this second tournament, they both knew, a familiar ache in their bones, a frustrating spasm, and they knew. Liu came to him first, before they rejoined Raiden and the others in Out World, before they get separated again. There's a wild, desperate fire burning in his eyes, a charged current running just under the skin and that's when Lao knows. This time, they're not coming back right, not for a while at least.

He doesn't hesitate to tackle the other, slam him against the wall of this damned 'Temple of Light' and leave all the marks they've spent years resisting. What's the point when they've got so many more, cuts and bruises and bites far too large for human jaws, what are a few more among the dozens?

He uses lips and teeth and tongue in equal turns, sucking a dark mark onto sweaty skin and licking away the salt there before leaving his own bites. The adrenaline is still pumping strong, making him fever hot, and there's quite a bit to be said for the blood lust that just dissipates into lust after the battle. The heat pooling in his groin, the fire only stoked by the tongue being shoved into his mouth, plunging in and out like the cock he doesn't have the time to take. Doesn't matter though, he doesn't think either one of them could last long enough to enjoy it and a temple doesn't really have any of the necessities.

So he enjoys the slick tongue, the way it licks across the top of his mouth and under his own tongue, coaxing him to enjoy this kiss as much as he can. They don't even try to be quiet anymore, letting the gasps and pleas and moans waft through the air like so much incense. Neither of them cares if anyone else notices at this point, they'll both go down fighting and that's all that matters to anyone. Who'll give a shit that they fucked each other senseless before invading Out World, that they sighed at the age old song and dance?

"How long?" Liu hissed against his collarbone, his fingers sharp on Kung Lao's hips, nails pricking into his hips. He doesn't answer, won't let his partner torture them with the what if's or could be's or maybe's. A full body roll that has leaves them both gasping is his reply, grinding their cocks together and bucking his own hips off the wall.

He isn't pinned against the wall, only held between it and a pleasantly muscled body, so it's far too easy to let one hand slip between them. First to Liu's pants and then to his own, undoing the laces and taking both their pricks in hand, he doesn't miss the pre-cum on both of them. As he mentioned before, blood lust, battle lust, when you satisfy one side of the equation, there's still the other to balance off.

They've had time, always had and will, but they're short on it at present so he feels no remorse at the brutal pace he sets, hand sliding up and down their leaking pricks. Lao's always been better at hand jobs, it comes from having long, musician's fingers, and it doesn't take long for Liu to start fucking up into his closed fist. He just enjoys the slick press of heated flesh, the short pants of his name, and the mounting pleasure of the moment.

And if there's a crack of thunder as Liu comes, he following soon after, then who the fuck cares? And if there's a gust of wind strong enough to blow out every candle in the temple as they share one more fervent kiss, why should they stop? And if every idol shatters as they leave then that's not their problem.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The second tournament is a farce and they both know it. As Lao rises to Raiden's goading and participates as Earth Realm's champion, as Liu moves off to rescue the princess, he knows it. Defeating the sorcerers is a simple enough challenge, one he drew out as much as possible, he had to give the audience a show after all. Kintaro after them is a bit more difficult but even that he accomplishes easily enough, he won Earth Realm's continued freedom and he knows his time is up. Perhaps he and Liu will exist again soon.

xxxxxxxxxxx

People like to consider him the brash one, the chosen of Raiden and the Temple to be sure but still young and undisciplined. Enough that he gets away with enough, going to visit the Elder Gods with Raiden right under Night Wolf's nose, speaking out against the beings they all know can do nothing. He is Liu Kang and he is meant to be the spontaneous, incredible warrior only balanced by Kung Lao's arrogance and calm.

Perhaps best that Raiden takes his life after he 'disobeyed' him. It gives the remaining two, Johnny and Sonya, a way to still respect the Thunder God even after he has betrayed their entire realm twice over. He hopes that when he and Kung Lao next speak, it is of plans to depose the old God that has grown far too wild and far too mortal to claim Godship.

xxxxxxxx

They are the tools of the Gods, their selves and their souls nothing more than puppets to their masters, the Gods, all of the Gods. Quan Chis is no God but he does serve one, a fallen one, a disgraced one, but one that knows how to manipulate them all the same. Not that either of them are complaining, him or Kung Lao, Quan Chi plans to use them against the Thunder God and they both would like nothing better.

Even so, the necromancer has no idea the servants he possesses, the power he wields, and Shinnok will never tell him. Or more accurately, Shinnok cannot tell him, not bound as he is in that worthless little trinket of Raiden's that entire armies are willing to fight over. Perhaps for the better though, for who was to say whether or not the sorcerer would pit them against the Thunderer should he know the truth to them. Who was to say whether they would have their revenge this time around should their master know the puppets he had found.

"Raiden will suffer," Lao swore, the words a drawn out hiss as they move together. Liu has no idea how long the sorcerer will leave them be, leave them unrestricted and task less but Lao had no intention of wasting one minute of their freedom. Scarcely had they tumbled into an empty room had he been pushed to a wall, feet leaving the ground, legs wrapping around a firm waist.

The time between had been lost to the long, invasive kisses, kisses that weren't so much kisses as being devoured. Lao had always been the calmer one of them, Liu more eager to act, but not this time not in this place, still he's not complaining. He enjoys the way his lips are being bitten raw, the fingers that are digging into his hips hard enough to bruise, he likes it rough.

"We will make him suffer," Kung Lao growls, lips finally leaving his but only so they can press stinging kisses to his neck. There's just something about having teeth sinking into the soft, vulnerable skin of his throat, just below his Adam's apple, about knowing how prominent that mark will be that makes him buck into the other man in lust.

Which, apparently, is all the invitation Lao needs to undo both their pants, the material already so stained with blood and whatever other gore that the dirt and grime of the floor is nothing. The wall is rough on his back; the stone uneven and uncomfortable but there are more important things to worry about that it, like the hand wrapped around his dick.

"Him and every other 'comrade' that abandoned us."

He doesn't need to see the sneer that has Lao's lip curling in disgust, he can picture it perfectly. The way red, kiss swollen lips stretch thin, the ugly smile with too much teeth, the flared nostrils, the unfettered anger dancing in those grey eyes. He didn't have to see it to know Lao had turned something ugly, ruined, malicious, into something undeniably beautiful.

Because for all that they are the creation of the Gods, they are no strangers to the side of evil. No strangers to the lust and wrath and hatred that runs through their veins, bolstered by the influence of the fallen god and shadow sorcerer yet still completely their own. All the more satisfying for it.

They fuck against the wall, grunts and moans and shouts echoing around them and covering the wet sound of their bodies smacking together. This isn't the first time they've been left alone, but they always act as though it is, consuming each other's bodies, revelling in the way they fit together so perfect.

They always leave, cum drunk and kiss stupid, off to complete Quan Chi's bidding with a relish they never had as monks of the White Lotus. They always leave with the innate knowledge that no matter how hard Raiden, or the Special Forces or the Black Dragon or even combined might of the Netherrealm's armies can tear them apart. Never again.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It is kind of the boy, of Kung Jin, to journey to this place just to help his 'cousin'. Somehow the boy believes that is what he wants, to escape the filth of this realm and return to the one that birthed him. Well, the one that had birthed him this time around.

Somehow the boy thinks all he needs is someone willing to invest the time and effort of seeing him not as the revenant he is but as the monk he used to be. He nearly doesn't have the heart to tell the boy no such monk ever existed, nearly.

"But…you fought for Earthrealm, you won at kombat," Jin argues, brows furrowed, mouth twisted into a deep frown. The Gods had done a spectacular job on him, this 'cousin' of his, another descendent of the Great Kung Lao who had no children and no family beyond his brother Liu Kang. The family resemblance was striking, the attitude near the same, a stand in for himself when his and Liu's souls got stolen away from the influence of the Gods.

"That does not encourage me to leave this place, to leave Liu," he replied easily and he can forgive this young one for his naivety, having had so little contact with the both of them. He can forgive Jin his confusion and ignorance, the boy's never seen the two of them as anything other than the fallen warriors, the grand heroes of Earthrealm who stood as brothers in all but blood. He can forgive the boy but not the fools who painted them as such, who blatantly ignored the years of careful acting that he and Liu were sometimes rivals, sometimes friends.

"Liu? He's taken up the throne of the Netherrealm, he's been corrupted by this place but we can help him. I can help both of you," Jin swore, falling into a deep bow and he almost doesn't have the heart to break this boy's tender spirit.

"This is how we would have it Jin. Liu took the throne so we might have control over this one life. We are both corrupted yes but he took the throne for us," he explained gently and oh if the boy doesn't look broken. The crestfallen expression, the utter loss breaking in his eyes as his heroes become what he never expected but no accusation only acceptance.

"Liu is the emperor of the Netherrealm and I am his enforcer, his lover," he murmured quietly, uncaring of who this boy tells so long as he understands.

Before, as monks at the temple they had to hide, pretend and act, never more than rivals, never more than friends, never more than what others could understand because that would give the game away. The game of the Gods where Liu Kang and Kung Lao were the pawns that stood the most to lose while the players risked nothing more than a lost turn. Shinnok had upset the board, stolen the pawns away for a turn, and now one pawn had risen as King for the rest of it, the other his loyal knight consort. So who gave a fuck what anyone thought now?

"I-I…never knew," Jin muttered, eyes downcast.

"None ever do, we're too good at the game," he answered extending a hand to the boy, offering a token that will perhaps aid in his own understanding. The gold coin is accepted without a word, not one for the leather strap with which to hang it about his neck or the words carved into the metal nor the heavy enchantment it carries. He watches as the boy makes his way back to the Nexus, back straight but head bowed as the denizens of the damned city cast inquisitive eyes after him.

It was kind of the boy to care for him, to try to save him from this place but also naïve, hopefully he will grow out of it. No glance is spared for the revenant enforcer of the new Emperor, not even as he disappears in a burst of blue dust.

xxxxxxxxxx

Claiming the empty throne of the Netherealm wasn't something that had occurred to him until recently. Until he realised just how weak the demons and wraiths and shades of this realm were and how free he was to do as he pleased. Not until he realised just how much freedom an empty throne could buy for himself and the one he loved.

As Emperor he didn't even have that many duties, just to watch over the realm and ensure no uprisings or wars started. He had his loyal servants, former allies turned revenant by that damned sorcerer; Kitana, Nightwolf, Sindel, the elder Sub-Zero, the Enenra, the police man, the former Black Dragon. They had all pledged themselves to him on his taking the throne, all willing to do as he commanded if for nothing else than something to do. If nothing else than to pretend their lives, their deaths and sacrifices hadn't been worthless, in the name of a God none should have held faith in.

Kung Lao had gladly taken up the post of loyal enforcer, yet another act, as Kitana was his assumed Queen. True he held some measure of affection for the princess, beautiful and deadly, as much a pawn to the Gods as himself but he would never her give to her the position so wrongly denied to Lao.

"You appear troubled, Emperor, how may your devoted servant ease your troubles?" Lao purred, breath tickling his ear as the man materializes beside the throne. There is an obvious double meaning to his words, one that Liu would point out at any other time but at the moment, he is troubled and there is only one thing that would ease his mind.

It's a simple matter to grab one muscled upper arm and have the other fall across his lap, sprawled deliciously over his thighs and at his complete mercy. Liu Kang would've required the restraint of a God to resist such a prize, to resist taking advantage of his unaccustomed good fortune. Although he did not know of many Gods with so much as an inkling of self-control so he did not feel quite so bad to press their lips together, to lace his fingers behind Lao's head and lose himself in the other.

Of all the kisses they've shared throughout this single lifetime, the intimate, the chaste, the heated, this one is the most satisfying. To have all the time they desire, to know the Gods cannot interfere for many years to come, to simply hold each other without worrying about something else. They take their time licking their way into each other's mouths, sucking on each other's tongues, biting at lips just short of breaking skin. He isn't sure how long it is before they break apart, only that Lao looks so, so gorgeous with swollen red lips.

"Should not I be servicing you, Emperor?" Lao whispers, voice hoarse with desire, pupils blown wide with lust.

"An Emperor does as he wishes," he explained pressing his lips to the jut of the other's Adam's apple, enjoying the feel of it moving against his over sensitized flesh as Lao panted.

The throne is large, meant for a God, and is more than large enough to accommodate Kung Lao straddling his thighs, legs splayed wide with the entire length of his body pressed against him. Liu takes his sweet time, mouthing at the skin between his teeth before biting down ever so gently. He relishes in each gasp, every husky groan and choked gasp as he leaves prominent marks on that lush expanse of skin leaving no question as to whom Kung Lao belongs.

He could spend the rest of eternity like that, with the other half of himself crafted by the Gods held against his chest and offering himself to whatever he's willing to give. He could spend the rest of the afternoon on nothing more than this but Lao has different ideas, ideas that make themselves known in the desperate little thrusts against his are more than enough for him to feel how hard the other man is and the stray spark that sets cool embers alight.

"I highly doubt that is what that compartment was made for," Lao grunted, raising himself to his knees and attacking the waist band of his own pants before moving to Liu's.

"Who can say? It was made for the ruler of sinners," Liu pointed out, uncapping the bottle of lube he'd just taken from a concealed compartment of the throne. He could very well hide an entire armoury in hidden spaces but chose to hide far more enjoyable items, like the Earthrealm lubricant he'd left his own realm to procure. There was a lot to be said for heated, vanilla flavoured slick, if only for the irony.

Lao gives him a sour look before snatching the bottle and pouring a generous amount on his fingers, hand immediately going behind him. Liu takes the opportunity to take his own erection in hand and stroke it lazily as his lover prepares himself over him, face contorted in delectable ways as he stretches himself. Usually he would be more than glad to do it himself, to tease and twist his fingers, to coax filth from bitten raw lips but Lao insists that as Emperor, he need not. Liu isn't complaining, not as long as he gets to appreciate the show and capture those lush lips in another dominating kiss.

"Just fuck me," Kung Lao growls, grinding down on his already slick cock, teasing him, begging him to take charge and fuck him until he can't speak. And really, what kind of Emperor would he be to deny his most loyal of subjects when he asked so prettily.

Lao is always so tight and hot and perfect, letting Liu set a punishing pace and matching him thrust for thrust. He used every trick he'd perfected over their incredibly long lives, grinding down on his cock as he pushed up, flexing the muscles of his ass, grunted filth into his ears.

"More, fuck yes! Oh fuck, so good, so very good Emperor. Ugh, please harder! Fuck right there, I can take it. I can take all of it, everything you're willing to give. Shit, I love your cock. Love the way it fills me right up, so perfect."

And Liu responded in kind, tilting his hips the way he knew would make Lao see fucking planets, biting at the skin of his shoulder until it bled, until the litany of words faded into a drawn out moan. Then he gripped the other's hips and held him in place, held Lao immobile as he continued to fuck the sense from him, batting away the hand that wandered down to his cock and jerked him off.

There are no Gods here, no mention of their names. Just the two of them, twin souls that needed each other like breathing. Just the gasping breath and panting of names, just the wet slap of skin on skin and the heat of their bodies slipping, sliding against each other. Just the two of them, completely, tragically, perfectly fit together in a way that was unquestionably human.

Human, with their broken bones and split knuckles, with their short life spans and need for something greater than themselves to blame. Human as they'd been for years and years, each and every life, nothing more than selfish humans.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is all because of Shaolin Monks and my sister. Written in the months leading up to and the announcement of MK X. Cross posted to tumblr.


End file.
